A Wee Problem
by Volitan
Summary: In the aftermath of Nero's defeat, engineering finds itself bombarded with reports of malfunctions. A humorous collection of drabbles.
1. Soup

Author's Note: My first Star Trek 2009 fic, and my first fic on this site. Many thanks are owed to nerdielady, for her support.

Disclaimer:

I am an amateur author of false name,

I borrow worlds of another's fame.

I stake no claim on recognised locations,

Neither do I own canon situations.

I merely come here to spend a while,

Reading other's work; writing my own style.

I earn no money, no wage, no dosh.

I gain no finance, no revenue, no cash.

I do not mean to step on legal toes,

I mean no infringement, I'm friend not foe.

So please, do come in, relax, unwind.

I hope in my work, enjoyment you will find.

**A wee problem. A Star Trek 2009 Drabble.**

"Scotty, I _know_ you're really busy, but there's a problem with the replicator in the quarters I'm kinda borrowing from Pike, seeing as he's in sickbay, and because I haven't got my own." Kirk said, having _finally_ managed to reach the engineer, it appeared that half the ship were trying to contact engineering.

"That's _another_ replicator throwing a wobbly… Laddie, I know ye the actin' cap'n, but I can nay drop what I'm doin' to come sort ye oot. But, tell me ye problem, and I'll add ye to the already _really_ long list." Scotty said, wiping his brow on his oil-streaked sleeve, leaving a smudged black line on his forehead. He had grabbed a PADD and was waiting to make a note of the captain's problem.

"My replicator has a glitch of some sort…" Kirk began.

"Right… what's it kicking oot?" Scotty glanced down at his PADD, not letting Kirk get another word in as he read a select few 'glitches' from the list he had already compiled.

"There's one on deck two that's been merrily away producing cups o' hot chocolate for two hours, after somebody asked for _one_ cup, though, people seem quite happy with that, the chocolate's nay getting wasted. There's another one which isn't producing _anything_ on deck five; the one in sickbay is spitting oot those pods o' saline eye wash a' random intervals. The big one the quartermaster uses is _only_ prepared ta produce _odd_ socks – _regardless_ of wha' ye ask of it. Wee Chekov was trying to help me oot an' fix the one on the bridge, an' it soaked the poor laddie ta the skin with orange juice... " Scotty said, trailing off, trying to bite back a chuckle.

Plenty of systems on the ship weren't all that happy after dealing with Nero; playing tug of war between warp-speed and a massive black hole; and _then_ riding the shockwave of the jettisoned warp core. The replicators malfunctioning were a pain, but not the end of the world. However, the life support throwing a fit – like it had done twenty minutes ago – _that_ was a problem. Not to mention they were stuck going at impulse speed until the other federation ships arrived to tow them back home, though, nobody was sure when those ships would actually arrive.

"I might have been a punk as a kid, but somebody managed to bring me up to replace something when it runs out…" Kirk began.

"Aye, usually a good thing, Cap'n." Scotty was now rather lost, but humoured the young lad who'd rescued him from Delta Vega, imploring the young acting captain to 'get on with it' with his eyes.

"Scotty… I asked for a new roll of toilet paper, and the replicator gave me a bowl of tomato soup instead." Jim said, watching as the other man tried and failed (spectacularly) to keep a straight face.

"Laddie, ye can nay wipe yer backside with tomato soup." He stated, laughing, "That's the _best_ one yet! I'll add ye to the list – but ye can nay be top priority at the moment."

"I _get_ that, but I thought I'd let you know about this… glitch." Jim said, starting to see the humour a bit himself.

"Aye, I'll work on it, captain. Got to dash, too many things ta do, an' nay enough time or people ta get 'em done." Scotty's face blinked off the communication's screen, and Kirk looked down at the bowl of tomato soup in his hands. He dipped in one finger and risked a taste, finding it quite delicious… perhaps this glitch wasn't a _total_ waste after all.


	2. Stuck

Disclaimer:

I am an amateur author of false name,

I borrow worlds of another's fame.

I stake no claim on recognised locations,

Neither do I own canon situations.

I merely come here to spend a while,

Reading other's work; writing my own style.

I earn no money, no wage, no dosh.

I gain no finance, no revenue, no cash.

I do not mean to step on legal toes,

I mean no infringement, I'm friend not foe.

So please, do come in, relax, unwind.

I hope in my work, enjoyment you will find.

Stuck

"Uhura to engineering. Engineering _please_ respond." Scotty put down his screwdriver and paid his full attention to the lovely communications officer. She'd been filtering the calls coming down to engineering, and helping them prioritise the repairs of faults. Everyone, it appeared, had something to report. Maybe he shouldn't have asked Chekov to put out a shipwide announcement get _everyone_ to report _every_ problem, malfunction or glitch…

"Aye, lassie, what can we do ye for?" Scotty asked, paying attention.

"I don't want to be any trouble, but the door to the ladies room by the bridge won't open…"

"…Lassie, there's another lavatory half way across the deck ye can use." He cut her off, saying his piece as politely as possible, though, Uhura wasn't one to begrudge a small walk to another set of facilities. How strange. Scotty shrugged scratched his head, but added the stuck door to his list.

"Commander Scott, I'm _stuck_ on the _inside_ of the ladies room, the door won't open." she said, her voice still calm and controlled.

"Ah, well _that's_ a problem lassie… we can nay have ye stuck in the lav when we need ya ta sort through all the calls coming through to us doon 'ere! I don nay think we can patch calls through via the ladies loo… though, nobody's ever tried ta."

"Can you get me out of here, _please_?" She asked, her voice starting to sound a bit strained.

"Let's try a manual override sequence first – righty-o, on the door pad, tap in 'alpha, mu, nine, nine, omega, five, delta', that should let you oot." Scotty said.

"Ahhh! Ow! Eeek! Ouch!" came a girlish shriek over the comm. Several small hissing explosions filled the comm.

"Lassie? Talk ta me lassie! Are ye alright?" Scotty cried.

"Yeah, I wasn't expecting that… oww." came the breathless and shaky reply.

"Are ye hurt, do ye need medical attention?" Scotty said in a slightly panicked rush, drawing the attention of the other engineers around him.

"I'm Okay." She squeaked, Scotty sighed and glanced around him.

"Donnae stand there like puddings! Get back to work! If ye've nothin' ta do – which I _doubt_ – then I can soon find ye a job!" The other engineers scattered, back to whatever they'd been doing before Uhura's scream. In the background over the comm, Scotty could hear the computerised bleeping that alerted him to yet another computer malfunction, rather than an issue directly with the door mechanism. He could also hear running water.

"There's sparks coming from the door lock mechanism, _lots_ of sparks." She said, her voice still a bit high.

"Okiedokie, so the override did nay work. I can nay come and get ye oot myself, sorry lassie, but there are so many things taking priority at the moment… I'll see who I can get hold of to mess with the computer to get ye oot… where's a computer programmer when you blooming need one?"

"Commander, Sir… they're all either on deck three, trying to make sure life support doesn't attempt to switch itself off again; or they're on deck two, trying to get the gravity generator programming back on line." Said a young female engineer, sounding rather timid.

"Thanks, Ensign Hayes, it is Hayes, isn't it?" She nodded, "I'm glad _you_ know where I've sent everyone! I've blooming forgotten in all this madness! So, tell me, Lass, who've I got faffing with the life support system up there? I think they've just about cracked it, based on the reports coming my way, they're just dotting the i's and crossing the t's now."

"Sir, as far as I can remember, there is Lieutenant Rohesia, Ensign Dacre, Ensign Lennox, Commander Spock, Leuitenant Kr-…"

"Commander Spock! _He'll_ do nicely! Bit of a genius when it comes to re-programming stuff, a lavatory door should be nay problem for him… not to mention the chap could do wi' a break." Scotty said, cutting her off he returned his attention back to Uhura, "Lassie, I'll send Commander Spock ta fish ye oot of there, he should be able to re-program the system locally to override the door – preferably without it spitting sparks at ye."

"Thanks, Commander, Uhura out."

"Ye welcome, Lassie. Scott oot.


	3. Not functioning within normal perameters

Disclaimer:

I am an amateur author of false name,

I borrow worlds of another's fame.

I stake no claim on recognised locations,

Neither do I own canon situations.

I merely come here to spend a while,

Reading other's work; writing my own style.

I earn no money, no wage, no dosh.

I gain no finance, no revenue, no cash.

I do not mean to step on legal toes,

I mean no infringement, I'm friend not foe.

So please, do come in, relax, unwind.

I hope in my work, enjoyment you will find.

Author's note: a warning for one naughty word in here.

**Not functioning within normal parameters**

"Sick bay to engineering." Came a rumbling voice that reminded Scotty of a rather annoyed lion. Well, if lions had that particular drawling accent.

"Engineering here, what can we do ye for?" Scotty replied, yawning.

"I've got a biobed going bezerk down here!" McCoy ranted.

"I need a _smidge_ more information than that, doctor." Scotty replied, gathering his tools ready for going to sick bay. There were a lot of people who required medical care – Captain Pike was still in a critical condition, as were a few others. Casualties who had chosen to keep working were suddenly realising that their injuries were worse than they thought, and had all descended upon sickbay en masse as the shifts changed.

"Put it this way, I've just nearly performed CPR on a Vulcan who wasn't dead! The biobed flat lined, but he was just asleep!" McCoy sounded utterly furious.

"Oh bugger. I'm on me way, doctor. Sick Bay jumps to the top of the list, especially as you've got people on life support. Scott out."

Arriving in Sick Bay, Scotty had to wonder how the medics were staying sane as well as keeping on top of everything going on around them. Scotty suddenly understood the term 'organised chaos'.

Captain Pike was in one of the three private rooms, a nurse constantly monitoring him, as well as his vitals on the largest screen in Sick Bay (for all to see, not that most knew what the various lines, graphs and readings actually meant). The Walking Wounded casualties were sat on those horrible plastic chairs that were impossible to get comfortable on, or leaning on the wall; a few were sat on the floor; they were slowly being dealt with, according to how seriously they were injured.

Some of the Vulcans who had been rescued had taken quarters, retiring to meditate; others were trying to help where they could, a few were even assisting (as best they could) in engineering! Those remaining in Sick Bay were the oldest, most traumatised or of the most use in there. Scotty recognised that Spock's Father was translating for one of the nurses speaking with an elderly Vulcan lady, evidently she wasn't able to translate her symptoms into Standard herself.

Scotty discretely looked around the area, his gaze settling upon one of the males, the Vulcan's hair was as white as snow, his face was a mass of wrinkles, and he looked so… _frail_ as he half sat half lay on the biobed. Most of the other Vulcans were still standing tall, their faces calm – but this old gent looked utterly exhausted, his eyes glassy, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Doctor? You in here?" Scotty asked.

"Where else am I gonna be?" McCoy groused, coming out of a curtained off area, stripping off a pair of surgical gloves and throwing them into a clinical waste container. He ignored the engineer as he sanitised his hands.

"Which bed is causing the problem?"

"The one with elder… Sovdak, I think I said his name right, I'm just not sure where to move him to, all the other biobeds are occupied." McCoy whispered. "I wanna keep an eye on him, his vitals are worrying me."

"Len, any chance you can fix me up so I can get back to my station?" asked Uhura, walking into Sick Bay with Spock at her side, she cradled her right hand with her left. Bright red marks marred her skin.

"What happened, Darlin'?" McCoy asked, reaching for his tricorder and diagnosing her where she stood in the middle of Sick Bay; there just weren't enough beds or seats to go around.

"The ladies room door got stuck and started spitting sparks when Commander Scott gave me the override code. Commander Spock just got me out – it's taken him twenty minutes, he's had to actually remove the door. Len, I really need to get back to the bridge, so can we make this quick?" Uhura said, wincing a little as McCoy used the dermal regenerator.

"You've had this under cold water, Darlin'?" he asked.

"Yeah, I did pay attention during the first aid classes." She said back with a small smile.

"I'd keep that tid-bit of information to yourself, if I were you, Darlin' – 'cause otherwise you'll be recruited as a nursing auxiliary, rather than be running the show with the communications people. That's what happened with the three cadet-red-shirts over there, they're both security, but they took the advanced first aid classes, so they're patching people up." McCoy said pointing a thumb in the direction of the cadets, as he crossed sickbay to an open crate of supplies and withdrawing a tube of some sort.

"Use that if it starts to hurt, spread it thinly over the area, topical use only. Do not ingest it. Contact me if there's any sign of a rash. Oh, and for all that's Holy, _don't_ touch Jim of you've just rubbed some in." The doctor stated firmly. "I ain't dot time to deal with him and his damned insane hyposensitivity reactions."

"Thanks, Len, thanks a lot. I've got to get back to the bridge." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his stubble-covered cheek and smiling gently at Spock before dashing off.

"Right. Biobed. Let's see if we can move Elder Sovdak into one of the wheelchairs for now. He's really not so steady on his feet." McCoy said, quietly, aware of the numerous pairs of sensitive pointy ears in the room.

"I will offer assistance." Spock said.

"Yeah, and you can stay put afterwards – I haven't had chance to give you the once over yet." The doctor grumbled. Watching as Spock approached the old Vulcan, said something in his native tongue, and after a nod picked him up bridal style, seating him carefully in a wheelchair that a nurse provided. Spock then covered him with one of the silver blankets that were usually sported by marathon runners after they crossed the finish line.

"Well, that was easy." Scotty replied, "Now comes the hard bit."

Within a few minutes, Scotty was kneeling on the biobed (after being reprimanded by nurse Chapel for doing so with his oil-and-coolant-covered boots on, said boots were now on the floor) and had most of the wiring pulled out on view.

"Ah! There's a loose connection here! I think I've got it!" Scotty said, turning around to find that only Commander Spock was paying any attention to him, McCoy circled the Science Officer (well, Scotty presumed he _was_ still the science officer) with the scanner.

"Stay where you are, Commander…"

"…Which one?" Scotty asked, shuffling to face McCoy.

"Both of you!" McCoy snipped. "Computer, perform audio analysis of patient."

"Audio analysis can only be authorised by appropriate Star Fleet medical personnel, due to doctor-patient confidentiality." Stated the computer.

"Medical audio analysis override: 'McCoy, Julia, November, three, three, five'." McCoy said, not looking up from the scanner he was still passing over Spock. "Crazy hobgoblin biochemistry…" He muttered. Spock did not comment.

"Medical audio analysis commencing… lifeform occupying biobed is unrecognised."

"WHAT! Hey! I'm _human_! A red-blooded _Scotsman_, I'll have ye know! A _half-starved_ red-blooded Scotsman, if you're being picky! Confounded contraption says I don nay exist!" Scotty fumed, shaking a fist at the monitor. The elderly Vulcan they had relocated to the wheelchair had eyes the size of saucers, his winged brows up in his snow-white hairline. He was attempting to shuffle away from the ranting engineer.

"I do believe there are more errors than a loose connection." Spock supplied.

"Well done, Sherlock! Even _I've_ managed to work that out! …You're healthy, just stay that way!" McCoy grumbled.

"I intend to, doctor, however the probability that I shall not return to Sick Bay is…"

"Spare me, call me back when it's fixed, I've patients to see." The doctor walked away, leaving Scotty and Spock to repair the bed.

Thirty minutes later, and after many more raised eyebrows from the elderly Vulcan sat two metres away – mainly due to Scotty's more inventive curses, and McCoy was called back over.

"Hop up, doctor, let's see what it makes of _you_. Its insulted me enough already." Scotty said.

"It's the first time I've taken the weight off my feet in far too long." McCoy groaned happily as he lay down, his back popping.

"Computer, perform audio analysis of patient." The doctor said, closing his eyes for the briefest moments.

"Audio analysis can only be authorised by appropriate Star Fleet medical personnel, due to doctor-patient confidentiality." Stated the computer.

"Medical audio analysis override, 'McCoy, Julia, November, three, three, five'." McCoy yawned the last command.

"Medical audio analysis commencing… lifeform: human." Came the computer's voice.

"Ha ha! Done it!" Scotty cheered.

"Sex: female." There were several barks of laughter and light giggles from around the room, Scotty (and his cursing) had gained him an audience. He had unwittingly provided light entertainment for exhausted, overworked medical professionals and the 'walking wounded'.

McCoy's response was to lift up his pants waistband and have a quick peak at his genatalia. "Ah ha, and a _pig_ just flew past us at warp speed."

"Computer, cease audio analysis." Spock said, sliding fluidly underneath the biobed, brandishing a screwdriver.

"Something tells me we _haven't_ fixed it, _Milady_." Scotty joked, scratching his head and grinning like an idiot at McCoy.

"Ya think? And I'd quit it if I were you, _I'll_ be the one doing your next physical. I could say on my report that being in the cold is good for you!" McCoy replied. Scotty nodded as Spock and he began pulling wires, panels and other technical innards from the bed, McCoy still laying on it – using the brief moment to catch his breath and a moment's rest.

"Okiedokie, let's try this again…" the engineer said, once more stripping the wires of their insulating casings, twisting them together and wrapping them up in tape.

McCoy jumped up and off the bed, narrowly missing landing on Spock's ankles as he did so.

"Did ye get a shock, doctor?" Scotty asked, concerned.

"No, but I don't wanna risk it! Its not _healthy_ to lay on a biobed that some crazy engineer and an overgrown pixie are trying to _hotwire_!" McCoy tugged down his shirt and set off in the direction of Captain Pike's room.

"I would nay use the term 'hotwire'." Scotty mumbled, returning his attention to the task in hand.


	4. Turn it off!

_Author's Note__: I would like to take this opportunity to thank __**everyone**__ whom has read, reviewed, favourite-d or done the alert thingy for this little fic of mine. Thank you. I'm glad that people are enjoying something that I enjoy writing._

_I've been wracking my brain for situations that Scotty might find himself having to deal with, well, at least the humorous ones. This one amused me no end, though, I don't think I can top my last chapter! _

**Disclaimer:**

I am an amateur author of false name,

I borrow worlds of another's fame.

I stake no claim on recognised locations,

Neither do I own canon situations.

I merely come here to spend a while,

Reading other's work; writing my own style.

I earn no money, no wage, no dosh.

I gain no finance, no revenue, no cash.

I do not mean to step on legal toes,

I mean no infringement, I'm friend not foe.

So please, do come in, relax, unwind.

I hope in my work, enjoyment you will find.

WARNING: a few naughty words, and erm… _naughty_ situations, but nothing too M-rated.

**Turn it off!**

"Jim! Stop squirming, damn it!" McCoy groused as he attempted to assess his friend's damaged hand.

"It didn't hurt so bad until you started messing with it! Don't you have really sick people to deal with in sick bay?" Jim complained, struggling to sit still in the captain's chair (_his_ chair) as the doctor unwrapped the bandage supporting his hand and began manipulating his fingers.

"Jim, quit wigging or I'll find something you're not allergic to and _make_ you sit still!" McCoy grumbled, running his tricorder back over Jim's hand. "Everyone in sick bay is as stable as they're gonna get, and the team down there are coping with it… and _technically_ I'm off duty and sleeping."

"I'm sure sleep doesn't make you hurt me! Why'd you have to unwrap it now? It was doing fine, hurt like a bitch, but it was okay." Jim almost whined, but he'd decided that a captain shouldn't whine like a child at an injury.

"Because I can get a better idea of the damage you did to it now the swelling's gone down; and because the swelling's gone down, the bandage is too loose to give any support." McCoy replied, feeling slightly sorry at Jim's wince as he continued to move the joints of his friend's bruised hand.

"Romulan maniac did the damage, not my fault." Jim muttered under his breath.

"Makes a change, it usually _is_ your fault you get hurt. Some God-or-something must have thought it was funny to make someone who's allergic to half the medical universe so damned accident prone!"

"I wouldn't call it accident prone, Bones." Jim replied, grimacing as the doctor used the bone-regenerator again.

"Yeah, well as a doctor, I _diagnose_ you as _casus habitus_." the CMO put his equipment away.

"I've got _what_? I thought I just had a few broken fingers?" Jim asked, worried.

"He said you were accident prone, in Latin, Captain." Uhura replied with a small grin.

"Great, now you're ganging up on me!" Jim replied with a smile. "So, Bones, what's the damage now?"

"Even the hairline fractures are nicely knitted together. Its gonna hurt for a while; and that bruise is going to turn a lovely shade of icky-greeny-purple, but there's no lasting damage. Keep the bandage on though, and try to keep those recently-repaired fractures still." the doctor said.

"I'll do my best, but I've things to do here." Jim said, his cocky smile back on his face.

"Yeah, and while you're doing it, try not to get yourself hurt or killed. You're gonna turn my hair grey at this rate! Right, while I'm here…" The doctor looked around the bridge, moving over to Chekov. "…Hey, kid, how're your eyes doing?"

"Doktor, zey are still wery sore, and zey itch - a _lot_." the navigator replied, looking up at the doctor with red-rimmed, heavily-bloodshot, weeping eyes.

"Yeah, being half-drowned in orange juice by a temperamental replicator will do that to you, at least sick-bay had a surplus of saline eye wash. STOP RUBBING THEM!" McCoy grabbed the teenager's hands away from his face, holding them by the wrist in his left hand. Using one foot, the doctor turned his chair to face him, tilting Chekov's face upwards by the chin with his right hand. The move looked well practiced to the rest of the bridge who looked on.

"I cannot navigate wery vell if you've turned me around and keep hold ov me, doktor." Chekov said.

"I'm no expert, but I don't think we're gonna run into anything out here for the moment, and Sulu's keeping an eye on things … You can spare me two minutes to make sure you don't end up with a nasty case of conjunctivitis, or an infection due to a scratched sclera."

"Aye, da doktor."

"_mmmmm… baby… right t-there!" _came the breathless male voice broadcast over the comm.

"Good God!" McCoy cried, letting go of Chekov's wrists and covering his ears.

"Erm, Leiutenant Uhura?" Jim asked, looking just a little shocked and very amused.

"Captain, its being broadcast _shipwide_… from somewhere on deck three, I'm trying to find out where from." she replied, fingers flying over the console.

"_Oh God! Jake! Oh! Oh!" _came a gasping, female wail over the speakers.

"Apparently its someone called Jake, does that narrow it down?" Jim provided.

"There are no crewmen named 'Jake' with quarters on deck three." Spock supplied.

"Okay, so that _doesn't_ help." Jim replied.

"Can we get this turned off, please? This is definitely something you could do to be eighteen to hear." McCoy asked, looking from a blushing Chekov (who could still partially hear) to Jim.

"Uhura?" Jim asked.

"Its managed to over-ride everything! I can't turn it off, Captain." she replied.

"Systems analysis reports an over-heated conduit within the main communications circuitry." Spock said.

"_Oh my God! Baby! Oh! Baby! Yeah! Oh yeah!"_

"_Jake! Oh Jake!" Harder!_

"_Like that, Baby? You're so tight."_

"_JAKE! JAKE! YES! OHHHHH!_

Kirk pressed a few buttons on his chair arm. "Kirk to engineering."

"What's up, Cap'n, other than this fella on the comm's boy-bits?" was Scotty's amused response.

"Scotty, we can't turn them off, something's fried in the circuits."

"Aye, Commander Spock's jus sent me tha details of tha scan… trouble is, tha particular conduit is gonna be a pain-in-the-arse to replace, its nay easy ta get to, its gonna mean clambering through the innards of the lovely lady herself." Scotty replied, his voice almost drowned out by the sounds of pleasured cries.

"Can you do it, Scotty?" Kirk asked.

"Aye, tha repair's a quick fix, we don nay even need to replicate the parts - we got them in stock! Its just gonna take a while to wiggle someone down ta tha problem in tha first place!" Scotty replied.

"How long, Commander Scott? I can't stand here holding this kid's ears shut all the damned time!" McCoy yelled over the sound of an orgasming woman, a loudly, _enthusiastically_ orgasming woman.

"Oh, hello there, doctor! And, as far as for how long, well, you'd better hope this Jake fella is close to the end, so to speak… who's ears? "

"Someone who isn't old enough to listen to this!" McCoy replied.

"Believe it or not, I haff heard zings like ziz before, doktor." Chekov said loudly.

"Well, you _shouldn't_ have, you're _seventeen_!"

"I am almost eighteen, Doktor."

McCoy snapped at the teen, "You're only a _baby_ for God's-sakes! Where've you been hearing stuff like this from?"

"My _Girlfriend_, doktor." was the Russian's reply.

Jim almost fell from his chair laughing at his best friend's gobsmacked facial expression.

"You're _seventeen_!" McCoy said, letting go of Chekov's ears, only to grab back hold of his wrists as he attempted to rub his itching eyes.

"Doc, I think seventeen's pretty average for tha sorta thing." Scotty replied with a laugh down the comm.

"He's _still_ only a baby… Now, Chekov, sit still while I put these drops in, head back. Me and you are gonna have a chat at some point."

"Scotty, get someone to fix this, please. The shifts only changed half-an-hour ago, and these two sound like they're gonna be celebrating the fact they're alive for a lot longer…"

"Aye, Cap'n. Will do. Scott oot."


End file.
